


Found Snapshots

by RoseCathy



Series: Don’t Let Me Go [5]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Partly PWP, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1409017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseCathy/pseuds/RoseCathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hodgepodge of moments set before and during the Don’t Let Me Go series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**I. Lost Cause**

Lister is drunk, but for the first time in years, he is a happy drunk instead of a morose one. He is floating, in fact.

As his bunkmate rhapsodises about his new purpose in life, Rimmer clenches his fists.

 ~~If~~ When Lister finds his girl with the pinball smile, Rimmer will have no purpose anymore.

**II. Departure**

“But why so far?”

“Lister, I’ve told you a million times. I need some time away. Actually, truly _away._ I feel burnt out.” Rimmer doesn’t have the presence of mind to tack on a more himself-esque explanation, like “I want to take bracing nature walks,” because his energies are focused on selling this elaborate lie on top of planning his great escape.

In a twisted way, he is proud of how well this has gone. He happened to find out about the garden planetoids a mere week after they found Kochanski, and Lister is too distracted to question why Rimmer wants to inconvenience the rest of them so spectacularly. He certainly appears to have forgotten that Rimmer has already had a ridiculously extended leave as Ace. _Small mercies._ He raises no further objection, so Rimmer picks up his guidebook and stands to go.

“Rimmer?”

“Hm?”

“How long do you think you’ll be?”

 _Long enough._ “I don’t know yet.” Weak answer. He needs to lie again. “A week or two.”

“A week or two of what?” Kochanski is at the door.

“Rimmer’s going on planet-leave,” Lister chirps, bounding across the room with an idiotic grin on his face before Rimmer can open his mouth.

Seeing that he is no longer needed, Rimmer slips out of the room. He needs to take inventory of Starbug.

  


The preparations are complete. Ten hours from now, Rimmer will take off from Landing Bay 1, no longer bound to his obligations to Red Dwarf.

Lister has gone to Kochanski’s quarters again. “See you in the morning,” he called out blithely over his shoulder, leaving Rimmer calmer and more bereft at the same time. For a crazy moment, he considers sleeping in the top bunk so that he can have a memory to take with him — a smell, a residual warmth, something that will help him feel close to Lister after he has torn himself away. Then he reminds himself that this is precisely why he’s leaving: because he can’t stand the closeness anymore.

He closes his eyes and pictures Lister lying there next to him instead of with her — Kristine smegging Kochanski, love of Dave Lister’s life, whom he can’t even hate no matter how tempting it is. It isn’t her fault that Lister is so obsessed with her, just as it isn’t his fault that he is so obsessed with Lister. Obsessed — is that the correct word? He likes to think of what he feels as something purer. Attachment. Passion. _Love_. Whatever he calls it, it turns him more and more often into a supernova of longing and hatred combined. _Open your eyes, damn it. If only you’d let me be…if, if, if._ It needs to stop.

Rimmer’s sleep is fractured by what feels like a thousand identical nightmares: the reunion between Lister and Kochanski, replayed over and over in startling colour for his benefit. Lister sprints to her and wraps her in his arms. The words “so sorry” and “try again” are murmured through tears. His hands move over her, reacquainting themselves with her hair and face, touching and claiming and promising more in a way Rimmer can only dream about. It’s too much, he’s going to be sick right there on the landing gantry, but he can’t turn away. _It’s unfair. So unfair._

The alarm rings. No sleeping in today; it’s time to go.

  


Rimmer recalls the last time he left — the bracing hug, the secretive smiles. “See ya, Davey-Boy.” He didn’t know — then. And this time, Lister doesn’t know. He has no idea.

“Have a good time,” Kochanski offers. “Remember to bring back some seeds.”

“Yeah, have fun, man. Let us know when you land, eh?”

“I will.” That, at least, is not a lie, unlike the next part. “I’ll see you soon, Listy. Kris.” He sets his jaw and keeps moving as if the only thing that interests him is getting into the pilot’s seat; otherwise, he might turn back and crumble at Lister’s feet.

Rimmer stays like that until he switches to autopilot, when the dark expanse before him brings home the enormity of what he’s done. He staggers out of the cockpit and leans against a wall in the midsection, head in hands. His goodbye was awfully casual considering he’ll never see Lister again, but what else could he have said? “See ya, Davey-Boy,” indeed.

“Goodbye, Dave,” he whispers. “I…”

He can’t finish the sentence, coward that he is.

**III. Early Days**

For the second night running, they are sharing a bed. “This is nice,” Lister murmurs sleepily, threading their fingers together in a tender gesture. Unfortunately, it is this very tenderness that prevents Rimmer from believing him completely. Quite possibly he inhaled some hallucinogenic pollen on his recent walk.

The next morning, Lister suggests that they drink their tea in the cockpit, and Rimmer agrees despite his usual avoidance of the area. They sit in silence for awhile, gazing out at the verdant landscape before them. Rimmer is getting well and truly lost in more ideas about how they got here (Happiness squid? But where on this planetoid would he have met one?) when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Luckily, his mug is mostly empty.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Lister gently takes the mug out of his hands and sets it on the console. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Sit?” Rimmer repeats, then he understands. He nods and opens his arms — _opens his arms_ — to Lister. Is he really doing this? When he still doesn’t quite understand what drove Lister here to him?

To stop Lister falling off, they have to hold tight, faces close together. The resulting intimacy is both elating and terrifying.

“I missed you,” Lister sighs into Rimmer’s hair. “When you were gone. Really missed you.”

Rimmer recalls what Lister told him about Kochanski’s departure, and the word **_Rebound_** flashes across his vision. He has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from saying it out loud. He can’t think like this. Most likely he shouldn’t think at all. “I missed you t - ” he begins, then realises that what he was about to say is not wholly true. _“It’s good to be honest about feelings and…all that smeg.”_ “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

 _Don’t give me that, Listy. You don’t understand._ “I mean, because of…” he shrugs uncomfortably. “It’s complicated.”

Somehow, Lister knows what they need. He kisses Rimmer hard, arms holding him firmly in place. When it ends and their eyes meet again, they’re both breathless. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t, Dave.” The name — the endearment, really — slips out unbidden. His face flames, but the look that Lister gives him is worth the embarrassment ten times over.

\------

For the fourth night running, they are sharing a bed. For the second night running, they are stripped bare, body and soul — at least, Rimmer is. He watches Lister wipe his mouth very deliberately with the back of his hand, and the sight is achingly erotic and slightly horrifying.

He wonders why Lister isn’t more unsettled about what he - what they’ve just done, but he knows better than to ask. Instead, he tries to kiss away any lingering unpleasantness, like Lister did for him the previous night, and the taste is achingly erotic and slightly - Lister whines deep into his mouth and thrusts against him, and he forgets.

**IV. (Un)Spoken**

Lister reflects on the day’s events. His heart is hammering with nervous energy, but for a good reason: he is blissfully, stupidly happy. He must have said “I love you” a dozen more times before they came to bed. He tried to convey the message in other ways, too; words can only express so much.

It occurs to him that Rimmer has been doing that all along. With every kiss and glance, every little caress, he’s said it — _I love you. I love you_ — because he wouldn’t let himself use words. Because it would hurt too much.

“Not anymore,” Lister thinks aloud.

“Hmm?” Rimmer shifts in his sleep, then reaches out and trails a hand down Lister’s arm. Lister shivers. He’s had loads of relationships and entanglements, been in love plenty of times, but he doubts that anyone has loved _him_ with such ferocity before.

**V. Settling Down**

“But you haven’t revised in weeks.”

“I’m starting now!”

“Really? I find that hard to believe, because you haven’t for - ”

“Rimmer, will you stop repeating yourself? Why can’t we share the smegging table?”

“Oh, now who’s repeating himself?”

“Look, why can’t we work together?”

“Because you distract me too much!”

Lister’s expression flickers from frustrated to intrigued. “Is that so?”

“There’s no need to get excited. I’m talking about how you spread your books all over the table and shuffle your papers around for no reason. And you’re always rolling that disgusting pen around in your mouth - ” _…shit._

“Oh, eh?” Lister folds his arms and stares, it seems, directly into Rimmer’s brain. “I don’t recall you getting this shirty last night. When I was rolling something else around in my mouth.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replies loftily, trying to ignore the heat flaring on his face, but it’s no use. No use at - his arms flail as Lister swiftly steps forward and yanks him down by the shirt.

“Now.” Rimmer notes with vindictive pleasure that Lister is just as out of breath as he is. “About the table.”

“No.”

“ _Rimmer_.”

“Lister, you can’t just kiss your way into things.” _“Into things”…mmm._

“Watch me.” _Oh, it’s no use. No use whatsoever._ “All right, how’s this? We try sharing for two hours, and if you’re not satisfied - ”

“ _Satisfied_ , Listy?”

Lister rolls his eyes. “If you find the situation _inconvenient_ , I’ll go somewhere else. Do we have a deal?”

 _Ha!_ “All right. Two hours.” There is no smegging chance that the arrangement will last two hours without him (rightfully) losing his temper. Ever the gracious winner, Rimmer pulls Lister close and kisses his forehead.

“It’s not over yet, smeghead,” Lister grouses into his chest.

**VI. Need**

“Rimmer, wake up.”

“Don’t…”

“Hey, I’m right here. Wake up.” Rimmer opens his eyes with a gasp. Lister doesn’t like the look on his face; it can only be described as terror. “Was it that one again?”

“Yeah.” Rimmer doesn’t have too many nightmares these days, but one comes back with some regularity. It’s the same one he had when they were about to head back from the planetoid — the one in which Lister says he “has to let him go,” voice filled with pity and nothing else.

Without a word, Lister turns his lover over and starts carving bruising kisses and bites into his neck and shoulders. This has happened enough times that they have a standing agreement about what to do next.

The pained noises and the squirming beneath him are disconcerting, but Lister knows that Rimmer needs this after the dream. He needs to bite his lip hard and shove himself down and back to take as much as he can; he needs to hear Lister alternately praise and reprimand him for his eagerness; he needs to beg Lister to bring him off. It makes him feel alive, and it proves that Lister is alive and _here_. Here for him and with him.

Lister holds him afterwards, shh-shhing and whispering soothing things. Rimmer eventually looks up, the terror gone from his face. Yet again, Lister is struck and humbled by the untempered happiness in his smile.

**VII. Confession**

Kryten usually disapproves of laziness (at least, when they are being lazy together), but even he agreed this time that they both deserved a break after tending to three slightly insane skutters all morning. Thus, Rimmer is sprawled on the bottom bunk, cradling Lister against him.

“Arnie?”

“Mm.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“What is it?”

“I don’t actually like it when we fight.”

“Honestly, neither do I,” Rimmer admits shamefacedly. “But we always fight. We can’t help it.”

“Yeah…so I was thinking, maybe we could have a no-fighting month, like. Starting today.” Lister’s fingers trace little patterns on Rimmer’s jaw. “What do you think?”

“Well, I like the idea, Dave, although - ”

“You’re going to say, ‘Whatever shall we do instead?’ I can think of a few things.”

“Yes, I…you see, I’m already annoyed that you interrupted me.”

“Ah, but that just proves how well I know you. You should be more appreciative, Rimmer.”

By way of mutual retaliation, they snuggle down together under the covers.


	2. Snapshots: The PWP edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rating has changed because I couldn’t help myself. Sorry.

**I. Impossible**

Rimmer had wandered into this area of the ship entirely by coincidence. He took these solitary walks more often since…since. Mostly, he needed to detach — when the same glum thoughts went round and round in your head all day, it was easiest to deal with them without outside interference.

He didn’t notice the voices at first. They blended into the background noise of the ship, which he had come to think of as a friendly thing — when he had nothing but the engines for company, he felt less bitterly lonely, more at ease with himself. As he got closer to the source, still deep inside his own mind, a few snatches of sound began to distinguish themselves from the general hum.

“Oh, Dave,” a giggle floated up the corridor.

Rimmer looked up in alarm. _Oh, no. Please, no._

A low, indistinct rumble followed. That voice. Despite the bile rising in his throat, Rimmer’s feet moved him forward, closer to…

“Yeah, like that…feel _so_ good…”

His chest clenched with panic, revulsion, and…something else. This was a rare opportunity. Thus far, he had had to make do with imagining exactly what he would hear if things were different, if he were the one making Lister lose his mind. Doing his best to tune out Kochanski’s higher tones, he let his vision cloud over and focused on the creaking of the bed and the increasingly frantic grunts and gasps. In his mind’s eye, he saw Lister spread out beneath him, face flushed and eyes shining, asking for _more, more, anything_ \- 

“What was that?” The noises stopped abruptly. “I thought I heard something outside.”

“Does it matter?” Lister’s voice was low and shaky, like he was on the brink of…Rimmer didn’t wait for the answer. He fled as quietly as he could, cringing at what he had been about to do.

**II. Early Days, Part 2: Lingering**

In general, Rimmer was happy with the relatively slow pace of their physical relationship. It had taken him a few days to shut off the “I’m in a hallucination” brand of intrusive thoughts; he didn't know that his mind would be able to cope if too many of his fantasies came to life at once.

So, as they lazed together one afternoon in what had become _their_ bunk on Starbug, he was savouring a few minutes of total contentment. Lister also looked content — he was idly caressing Rimmer's hair and neck and face, every so often bestowing a little kiss where his fingertips had recently brushed.

Rimmer didn't notice at first that their quiet breaths were deepening and that Lister's lips were lingering longer and longer. When Lister suddenly kissed him with a hunger that he had heretofore not seen, he gasped and reeled, but a baser part of him had already begun to respond.

He couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly the moment had changed. “Dave,” he began in a joking reproof.

“Touch me, please,” was breathed against his lips. “I want you to touch me.” Rimmer heard the emphasis on _you_ , heard the clink of metal as Lister unbuckled his belt, and he forgot about laughing, about himself. He had to do this, give Lister what he wanted before their usual tentativeness set in, before - the moment he got his hand between them, everything ceased to matter outside of the space knitted together by their bodies.

  


Lister disengaged from their kiss and pressed his face into Rimmer's chest to hold himself there. He thrust greedily into Rimmer's hand, filling the cocoon they'd created with ecstatic noises. Oh, this felt _right_. He could no more have explained what he meant by that than he could have defined this strange, wonderful connection of theirs, but it was so good, so… _yes, yes, **this**_. He looked down just in time to watch himself spill messily onto the fingers wrapped around his cock, the sheets, and…oh.

  


“Look what you’ve done,” Rimmer chided softly, but he planted kisses on the top of Lister's head all the same. Truthfully, he didn’t give a smeg about the mess. Seeing and hearing Lister so wild with desire (although, he supposed, he couldn’t be certain that it was desire for _him_ rather than an itch that needed to be scratched) had consumed him, made him forget that he ever cared about things like come on his clothes.

“I’ll make it up to you. Do you mind if I…”

“Sorry?” he replied blankly. It took him a second to register Lister’s meaning. “No, it’s - whatever you want.”

“Okay.” There was the kissing again, hot and desperate; there were hands scrabbling at his waistband, undoing and easing out. Then there were nimble fingers, gliding over the head of his cock, squeezing and stroking along the shaft, bringing him to utter, utter – Rimmer’s cry was mostly lost in the depths of their kiss, but the way he trembled was enough to make Lister chuckle delightedly.

“Now look what _you_ ’ve done…”

**III. Just Ask**

Lister tracked Rimmer’s gloriously ruffled curls through half-closed eyes as he bit and licked his way downward. It was going to be one of those nights — he could relax, lie there compliantly, wait to find out – _ooh_.

“Too much?”

“No, no…was nice.” Lister plunged a hand into Rimmer’s hair again and gently angled his head back down. “I’ve bitten you harder.”

“Hmm. True.” The next few bites went even deeper. Lister arched into each one, his whole body already buzzing with arousal. “Ah…fuck…” he whined.

“Already?” Rimmer murmured teasingly. “But I’m not done yet.” He sank his teeth slowly into Lister’s thigh, agonisingly near his cock. Lister gasped and threw his head back. “Ah! Don’t…I want…”

The next thing he knew, Rimmer was back on top of him, nuzzling the side of his neck. “What is it that you want?” he whispered.

“You know…”

“Tell me,” Rimmer demanded, adding a few fierce licks to his ear for good measure. “Tell me what you want.”

Lister groaned in frustration. “Please.” He tried to make his point by rubbing up against his lover, but Rimmer wasn’t having it. He gripped Lister’s hip with one hand, forcing him to stop moving. “I want to hear you ask.”

 _Bastard._ “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me right now. Happy?”

“Not quite.” _You total, utter bastard._ “I’d like to know more.”

“ _More_?” Lister was all indignation on the surface. Even now, he couldn’t quite admit why he let Rimmer torment him like this — how exciting this game was, or how dizzy he was getting just thinking about the payoff.

Rimmer shifted to press their foreheads together. “Remind me how much you like it,” he challenged. “How much you like being ripped open. How much you like being filled with my cock.”

“You – ” Lister was about to argue, dizziness be damned, but sudden inspiration struck him — a memory, a very strong one. No theatricality necessary. _Yes._ Why hadn’t he thought of it before? “All right, I’ll remind you.”

Rimmer noticed the change in his demeanour, and his lips curled into a satisfied smile. “I’m listening.”

“When we first started doing this…” Lister licked his lips. “I never told you exactly, but there were times I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Really?”

“All the smegging time. One day, I went looking for you…you were in the drive room, looking at the monitors, and all I could think about was going up to you, to ask you to throw me down on the chair — or the floor, whatever — and have your way with me right there.”

A shiver went through both of them. “Why didn’t you?”

“Cat walked by.” Rimmer snorted and shook his head at the absurd conclusion. Lister took the opportunity to shift his hips and legs for easier access. “Are you convinced n – oh _fuck_!” With that, the power of speech left him; Rimmer had pushed himself partway in, stretching and filling him just like his memory-self — and he — had craved.

“More?” Lister nodded frantically. “Then turn over for me. Get on your knees.” He complied, whimpering at the brief loss of sensation. As far as he was concerned, Rimmer could put him in whatever position he liked, do whatever he – he cried out as Rimmer’s cock pushed into him again, this time fully, now moving inside him, making him delirious. This was it, _this…so good…_ He bucked, helpless, trying to get more friction and thrust into his own fist at the same time.

“Here. Let me.” Lister let his hand fall and lost himself completely to Rimmer’s control. _More, more, more…_ It wasn’t long before he was spurting into Rimmer’s hand, his body shaking and awash in bliss.

  


Rimmer held Lister carefully to avoid suffocating him. He listened for slower breathing, watched the flush fade from his skin. He knew that Lister would come to him as soon as he felt able.

He sighed in something like relief when his lips were caught in a soft kiss. “Thanks, Arn.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Well, still. Mind you, it was pretty strenuous at some points.” Lister winked. “It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you, or else I wouldn’t have put up with it.”

 _Oh. Oh my._ “‘Madly’?”

“Madly,” Lister confirmed, and Rimmer’s heart soared. _This is it. Everything I could ever want. This._


End file.
